Ghosts That We Knew
by DaughterOfPoseidon333
Summary: "Natasha was curled in on herself like a child who thought they'd just seen a monster under their bed. But Steve knew the monsters weren't under the bed—they were in her head. Steve could relate. It wasn't bullets or knives, but the ghosts of his past that brought him to his knees" Nightmares are just one of the things they have in common. Title from Mumford and Sons song.
1. Ghosts That We Knew

**Hello, everybody! New Romanogers story time!**

**Whether you read my last story, A Storm or Red, or are a newcomer, welcome!**

**Basically, I believe that each of the Avengers suffers from nightmares, but I wanted to focus on Steve and Natasha for this story because I ship them like crazy :)**

**All the lyrics in this chapter are from the song **_**Ghosts That We Knew, **_**by Mumford and Sons. The title is also based off that song.**

**I don't own Captain America or any song lyrics.**

**Enjoy!**

**-:-**

**Ch.1: Ghosts That We Knew**

_-:-_

_You saw my pain washed out in the rain_

_Broken glass, saw the blood run from my veins_

_But you saw no fault, no cracks in my heart_

_And you knelt beside my hope torn apart_

_-:-_

Steve knew Natasha had nightmares. _He _had nightmares. Hell, he figured probably most of their Avengers team did. But when he saw Natasha in the midst of a nightmare—which had been a total accident—he found the reality was far worse than anything he could have imagined himself.

For the past four months he'd been with Sam, searching for Bucky. But the trail for his metal-armed friend had gone cold, and Steve needed a break from looking. So, he—and Sam—took Tony up on his offer and moved into the Stark Tower. He and Sam had a whole floor to themselves, and it was nice because, both being military men, they had no issues about how the other lived, as they both liked their floor clean and tidy. They'd only been there for two weeks, but they were already all moved in. Sam had gotten stuff from his house back in D.C. brought to the Tower, and Steve had done the same, but neither of them had much to begin with,

One night, with Bruce spending his time in the lab and Tony and Pepper off on a date, Steve and Sam headed down to the communal floor that they all shared. It had the full bar, a huge flat screen TV, several couches and chairs, and various other items that occupied the huge floor area. They had been there all of five minutes when Natasha and Maria Hill showed up.

"Hey, soldier," Natasha greeted as she plopped down on the couch next to Steve, wearing a smirk, acting like it hadn't been four months since he last saw her.

"Hi," he replied, looking back and forth between Natasha and Maria. Neither of the women said anything, just made themselves comfy.

Steve knew that Maria had been living at the Tower, since she was now working for Stark. What Steve didn't know is that Natasha was back, too. He'd managed to get a hold of her a few times during their four month separation, to see what she was up to. She had been looking for Clint—who she had found just in time, because when she got there, he had been surrounded by Hydra agents. Since then, she'd been with Barton, out in the field, pulling SHIELD agents out of ops infected with Hydra.

"I didn't know you were back," Steve said quietly.

Sam had started chatting with Maria, and Steve was glad there would be no extra ears listening in on their conversation. Truthfully, Steve had missed Natasha. He probably missed her more than he cared to admit. He and Natasha had formed a stronger bond than he ever thought possible, and it had taken her being away from his side for four months for him to realize that.

Natasha looked up at him, her green eyes unreadable as she scanned over him. She had cut her hair a couple inches shorter since he last saw her, and he decided that he liked it better that way. There was a stray piece that had fallen against her cheek, and he had the sudden urge to tuck it back into place. He didn't think Natasha would appreciate that very much. Then again, it was hard to tell with her. She was so unpredictable, so spontaneous and crafty. She was fire—dangerous and beautiful. Glowing, soft coals one second, a blazing inferno the next. And like fire, she was incredibly deadly. A destroyer. But fire also brought life. It burned everything dead or dying, and from the ashes sprouted all things new and green.

Steve supposed that Natasha herself was the phoenix. She had been forged in fire and blood, created into a weapon, a machine. Made only to follow orders, not question them. Much like himself, in that sense. He knew little of what had occurred to her in the Red Room, but what he did know was enough. They had changed a little girl into a predator. Sharp and deadly, like a knife. A seductress, capable of spinning men and women alike into her web until she went in for the killing blow, just like the spider she was named for.

Steve saw all of this, of course. It was written in the scars she had, in the hardened muscles that lay underneath her soft skin. At first glance—even at second glance, or third, or fourth—most people wouldn't look at her and think _assassin. _Most people looked at her and saw a pretty face. Then again, Steve wasn't _most people. _He had seen how vulnerable she could be, but that vulnerability, that humanity she had exposed to him, that was a secret he would take with him to the grave.

"I've been back for just a couple days," Natasha said, pulling Steve back from his thoughts. "Maria had room, so I'm living with her."

"Where's Clint?" he asked, seeing as the archer hadn't come in with Natasha.

"Still out in the field," she replied. "He's still trying to find SHIELD agents. He said he'd come back to the Tower in a couple weeks."

"Why aren't you with him? If you don't mind me asking,"

Natasha raised an eyebrow, one corner of her mouth turning up, like she was trying not laugh. "What? Tired of me already, Rogers?"

"No, I—it's not that, I just, um—" Steve stammered.

"Oh, calm down, I'm just kidding," Natasha laughed, shoving his shoulder playfully. "Hydra has it more out for me than Clint. I was getting him into a lot of bad situations, so we both decided that he would do the last sweep by himself."

Steve nodded. "Yeah, we ran into a lot of Hydra agents while searching for Bucky. We actually found more Hydra agents than clues about Bucky."

"You'll find him. When he's ready, he'll let you find him," Natasha said quietly.

"Yeah, I know," Steve sighed.

Natasha was quiet for a moment, before she poked him in the arm. "Your grumpiness is bringing me down. Why don't we all watch a movie or something? Take our mind off things?" she suggested, loud enough for Sam and Maria to hear.

They all agreed, and Natasha and Maria picked out the movie, talking amongst themselves, occasionally shouting titles at Steve to see if he'd seen them. Steve had been sent to the small kitchen next to the bar to make popcorn and get drinks. As Steve opened the popcorn and stuck it in the microwave, he watched Natasha. He couldn't hear what she and Maria were saying, but whatever it was they were talking about, Natasha seemed happy. Her eyes were bright and she was smiling as she toyed with the ends of her hair, listening to something Maria said as the brunette flipped through the movies on Tony's Netflix.

Steve couldn't help but think of the graveyard they'd said goodbye in, where Fury's fake tomb lay. She'd told him to call Sharon—which he never did—but while she'd said that, he still felt that kiss on his cheek. He'd felt the one on his lips, even if it had been undercover. Either way, her lips haunted him, burning on his skin. Steve wasn't entirely sure what he felt for Natasha. He trusted her, considered her a good friend. But he also missed her like crazy and spent many nights wishing she was with him, helping him out. There was a hole, an emptiness when she wasn't there. Now that she was here with him again, where he could touch her and smell the vanilla and lilac of her shampoo, he was whole again. Steve didn't know much about relationships or love, but he was pretty sure you didn't think of friends that way.

Steve turned when he heard Sam chuckle. "Oh, you are so screwed,"

Steve was about to ask what he meant, but Sam nodded his head towards Natasha, and Steve realized he'd been staring at her. Steve looked at Sam, mouth open, but he had no excuse.

"Yeah?" Steve smirked, recovering his composure. "And what about you and Hill? You guys seemed to have hit it off pretty quickly."

"Me and Maria?" Sam asked.

"Oh, so it's Maria now, is it?"

Sam frowned, then shoved Steve's shoulder. "Man, shut up."

Steve just laughed, and grabbed the popcorn when the microwave dinged. Sam grabbed beers and they headed back over to Natasha and Maria. Once settled in, they dimmed the lights and played the movie. It was something Steve hadn't seen before, but he hardly paid attention. Natasha had curled right up to him, her legs against his, head resting on his shoulder like they did it all the time. And when her beer was empty, she commandeered his, which he was okay with. Sure, beer tasted just fine, but he didn't feel anything from it due to his high metabolism, so it wasn't nearly as enjoyable.

At first, Steve couldn't relax with Natasha so close to him, but after a while, he forced himself not to think about it and just _feel _instead. She fit nicely against his side, like a puzzle piece. When one of them moved, the other adjusted properly. There were no elbows or knees banging together. They moved as one unit, like the team they had spent almost two years being. He wondered if she noticed his presence as much as he noticed hers. Probably. But she didn't say anything, and he knew she never would. And he didn't mind.

_-:-_

_The ghosts that we knew will flicker from view_

_And we'll live a long life_

_-:-_

Steve woke, not remembering having fallen asleep. He rubbed his eyes, blinking them a few times, his sight adjusting to the low light that blanketed the communal floor. As he sat up, stretching out his stiff limbs, Steve realized he was on the floor. Last he remembered, he'd been on the couch. But when he looked up at the couch, he got his answer: Natasha was occupying the whole couch, probably having pushed him off while he slept. And knowing her, she may have pushed him off purposely. He was just surprised he hadn't woken up when he landed. Though, thinking back on how little sleep he'd gotten while searching for Bucky, it wasn't really surprising. He did, every once in a while, sleep quite deeply. Most of the time, though, he was a light sleeper and his rest was often plagued with horrible dreams.

Looking around the area, he saw the TV had been turned off. Sam and Maria were nowhere to be seen, and Steve wondered briefly if they had gone back to their separate floors or gone up together. Either way, he didn't want to bother them, so Steve decided that sleeping on one of the other couches for the night wouldn't be too bad. As he stood, several joints cracked, and he was sure that Natasha, had she been awake, would have made some joke about him 'getting creaky in his old age'. He looked over at her now. She had shifted onto her side, one arm clutching the pillow she had rather tight. She looked almost tense, but when he looked, her chest rose and fell gently, her breathing soft, like she couldn't have been more peaceful.

Steve shook his head and headed over to the couch closest to the one Natasha was on. He was just about to close his eyes when Natasha screamed. It was an animalistic sound, tearing from her throat, making his blood turn to ice. Steve was up in a second, grabbing her arms. She thrashed in his grip, her eyes not yet open. A thin sheen of sweat of covered her face and neck, making her red hair stick to her skin. She continued to cry out, her screams mixed with half-uttered words as her brow creased from an invisible pain that he could not feel.

"Natasha," Steve said firmly, trying to stay calm, despite the condition she was in. "_Natasha!_"

She gasped suddenly, her eyes snapping open, her back arching as her muscles shook one last time and settled. Steve loosened his grip on her arms just the slightest. She looked at him then, and he could tell that she wasn't quite _seeing _him. She cried out and brought a knee up to his abdomen, making him groan, right before she flipped him over and he landed, hard, on the floor once again. Natasha put a forearm to his throat, a knee to his chest, pinning him down.

"Natasha," Steve grunted through his teeth. He didn't want to hurt her, but if he didn't get her off him, she could seriously hurt _him. _Steve relaxed for a brief second before using a considerable amount of strength to flip Natasha over, nearly running them both into the coffee table. He pinned both her arms down, and used his legs to hold hers down.

"Natasha, it's me," he said, slightly out of breath. "It's Steve."

She was breathing hard, but at his words, her chest stopped heaving quite so much. She blinked a couple times, awareness returning to her green eyes. "Steve?" she gasped.

He nodded, and got off her, pulling her up beside him. He settled back against the couch, facing her. She wasn't looking at him. He slowly reached out and brushed a couple strands away from her damp forehead, his fingers brushing against her skin. And once his hand fell away, he still wanted to touch her, so he grabbed her hand. It was trembling and he noticed than that her whole body was softly shaking.

Steve didn't think he'd ever seen Natasha Romanoff so vulnerable. She was trembling, the cracks in her shell—her impenetrable walls—becoming visible. The fissures spread, mapping their way across her skin, like her scars. He was sure that one wrong word, one misstep and she would crumble. She was shaking and sweating, curled in on herself like a child who thought they'd just seen a monster under their bed. But Steve knew the monsters weren't under the bed—they were in her head. Screaming at her, cursing her, damning her to hell. The Black Widow, so strong and fierce and defiant, stuck down by the voices of her past. Steve could relate. It wasn't bullets or knives, but the ghosts of his past that brought him to his knees.

"Natasha," he whispered her name. Names had become important to them. It was a way they could communicate when they didn't really know what to say. Saying each other's names reflected how angry or worried or scared they were feeling at the time, right now, Steve poured every ounce of concern he had for her into those three syllables. She still didn't say anything, but allowed him to tug her closer till she was against his side like earlier, when they had been watching movies.

"Natasha," he repeated softly. "You're okay now. You're safe."

"I'll never be safe," she whispered hollowly. She sounded like something inside her had broken. But he supposed, something _had _broken. An important piece in you had to be missing to get nightmares like that. He would know. It happened to him too. The part of him that was missing he'd left back in 1945.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Natasha let out a quiet, bitter laugh. "Steve, the whole world knows who I am. I had enemies before, and now they all know how to find me. Sooner or later, some of them are going to catch up to me, maybe even kill me. I'm not safe."

"Well, one: I'm pretty sure you can take on anyone, even me," he gave her a tiny smile. "And two: you _are _safe here with me. We're a team and I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

Natasha looked at him. He was pretty sure that what he'd said may have been a little cliché, even cheesy, but it was true. And he meant it. Natasha was too important to him for him to let her go that easily. Any enemies she had, not only would they have to go through him and her, but the whole rest of their team as well. Even if they were a team (one that wouldn't be complete without her) they were friends, too. Steve had lost too many people to lose any more friends.

"Even if they can't get to me physically, Steve," Natasha started, her eyes moist with unshed tears. "They'll just get in my head, instead."

Steve knew she was talking about the nightmare. Or nightmares, plural. He wondered how often they haunted her, torturing her from the inside out. He wondered what was so awful in her past that could have made the Black Widow scream like a wounded animal.

"I get nightmares, too, you know," he said. "We all have our ghosts."

"Yeah, except your ghost isn't actually a ghost," Natasha tilted her head. "Your ghost just happens to be a man walking around with a metal arm."

"What?" he asked. "You think Bucky is the only skeleton in my closet? The only nightmare I have?"

Natasha blinked at him, and then cast her gaze down, twiddling her thumbs. He'd never seen Natasha fidget. Then again, it seemed like she was opening up more to him, letting little pieces of herself shine through underneath the mask of disguises she wore.

"Well, your skeletons aren't like mine," she mumbled, a little bitterly.

Steve paused, the silence thick. "What did you dream about?"

Natasha still didn't look at him. She was silent. He watched her breath, waiting to see if she would answer. She exhaled slowly, pushing hair back behind her ears.

"Blood," she said, barely above a whisper. "Always blood."

She leaned her head back against the couch and Steve took the hand closest to him and intertwined his fingers with hers. He squeezed gently, and she squeezed back.

"I'm covered in blood. It's _everywhere,_" she chokes on the word. "It's on my hands and in my hair and on my face...and I can't wipe it off. And they're all around me, all of them…"

Steve wants to ask who _they _are, but he knows: all the people she's killed. Every single person who had their life ended by the beautiful Black Widow. He wonders how many of them didn't know how deadly she was until she'd ended them. He wonders how many of them _did _know just how dangerous she could be and still decided to dance, play with her, see if they could outsmart her, outfight her.

"They scream at me," she continued, her voice flat like she was trying to distance herself from what she was saying. "They scream like they're dying and I'm asking—_begging_—for them to kill me and they won't…they just scream at me and I see their faces and their families and it goes on until I drown in their blood."

Steve didn't know what to say. He looked down at their conjoined hands, wondering if blood was what she saw when she looked at her own hands. He ran his thumb along her skin, trying to sooth her. He couldn't make her nightmares go away, but he could be there when she woke up.

"Come 'ere," he murmured, standing and pulling her up too. He laid down on the couch she had occupied earlier. She seemed to get the message without him even having to say anything. She curled up against him, their bodies spooning together.

"I'll be here if you have any more nightmares," he whispered against her neck, wrapping an arm around her waist. She found his hand again and squeezed his fingers.

"Thank you," she replied softly. With her back to his chest, she felt her breathing even out and her grip on his hand loosened as she began to fall back to sleep.

"Steve?" she mumbled.

"Hmm?"

He waited for her to reply, but when he looked, she had already fallen asleep.

_-:-_

_So give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light_

_'Cause oh that gave me such a fright_

_But I will hold as long as you like_

_Just promise me we'll be all right_

_-:-_

**There's chapter 1! I hope you all liked it :)**

**There will be 3 chapters total. Another short story (I'll probably end up doing more, shorter stories for these two, than just a couple long ones). I already have the second chapter written and am working on the third one now. I will post the second one in a day or two.**

**Please review! It really means a lot to me and I love to hear your thoughts, so just take a minute or two to leave a comment :)**

**Thank you for reading!**

**-DaughterOfPoseidon333**


	2. Below My Feet

**Hey, guys! So, first off I just want to start by saying thank you! All the favorites, follows, and reviews were so wonderful to see, so thank you!**

**For this chapter, the first italicized lyrics are from Mumford and Sons' song **_**Below My Feet. **_**The lyrics at the end of the chapter are from **_**Ghosts That We Knew.**_

**I own neither the lyrics nor Captain America.**

**Enjoy!**

**-:-**

**Ch. 2: Below My Feet**

_-:-_

_And now I sleep_

_Sleep the hours and that I can't weep_

_When all I knew was steeped in blackened holes_

_I was lost_

_Keep the earth below my feet_

_For all my sweat, my blood runs weak_

_-:-_

_Natasha was running, running. Trying to escape the voices, the screams of the dead. There was nothing around her but shiny black floors and shiny black walls that reflected her own, terrified, blood-covered face back to her. Guilty. She looked so guilty. But not guilty enough, it seemed. She rubbed furiously at the blood on her hands, trying to get some of it off, but it was no use. Her hands were so red, permanently red. Stained. Like her heart. She kept running. She just had to _keep running. _The screams seemed to fade for a moment. Suddenly they were louder than ever. Cries of anguish and of pain. Cries that said tears were being shed as flesh was ripped. Natasha fell to her knees, the blood covering her making her slip on the smooth black floor._

_ She covered her ears, feeling the blood that was stuck in her already red hair. She screamed, like an animal, trying to drown out the noise of her victims'. But it kept getting louder and louder till she felt like her eardrums would burst and her heart would explode out of her chest._

_ "Stop!" she screamed, feeling tears slide down her cheeks, mixing with blood. "Stopitstopitstopit!"_

_ The voices grew, multiplying, becoming a roar that made her skull vibrate. A loud booming echoed. It pounded, so, so loud. It kept pounding and there was screaming and she was covered in _so much blood—

Natasha bolted upright with a gasp, her sheets tangling around her feet, pinning her down momentarily. She heaved with each breath, feeling a moment of panic as she tried to get her legs freed. She heard a loud knocking at the door and nearly jumped out of her skin, remnants of her nightmare stuck to her, like cobwebs. The knocking sounded again, and she realized, _that _was the pounding she had heard in her dream. Finally managing to get her legs undone, she took a few deep breaths, trying to regain her composure. She pushed sweaty hair back from her face, wishing Maria could get the door, but her roommate was in D.C. for a few days on business.

Natasha padded to their front door, not bothering to put a robe on over her meager black tank top and cotton underwear. Whoever was bothering her at—she glanced at the clock—two in the morning was just going to just have to deal with it. Natasha threw open the door, ready to chew the person out, but when she saw who it was, every ounce of annoyance and anger disappeared from her body.

"Steve?" she said.

He was wearing a hoodie—no shirt underneath—some workout pants, and his sneakers. He also happened to be soaking wet. Natasha quickly glanced to her left and saw that it was, indeed, pouring outside. She hadn't even realized. She turned back to Steve, and she saw a shudder run through his body.

"Hi," he said almost sheepishly. "I…uh…I didn't know where else to go."

Natasha stared at him blankly for a second longer, before grabbing his hand and tugging him inside.

"What do you mean you didn't have anywhere else to go?" She asked once they were seated and he had a cup of hot coffee in his hands. "You do live here, you know,"

He chuckled, running a hand through his slowly drying hair, scattering water droplets. "Yeah, I _know _I live here…guess I just needed some company. Somebody to talk to."

"And you picked me?" she raised an eyebrow.

Natasha wasn't quite used to having Steve trust her so much. Wasn't quite used to considering him such a close friend. Well…_more _than a friend, if she was being honest with herself. She wasn't exactly sure _what _they were, but _friends _didn't seem like an intimate enough word. Though she would never say it, she really hated saying goodbye to him in the graveyard. It felt like she was cutting one of the few strings that was tethering her to earth. Steve anchored her, gave her a reason to stick around and not bury herself so deep that no one would find her ever again. Not her friends, not her enemies, no one.

"Well," Steve started, breaking Natasha from her thoughts. "Sam's in D.C. with Maria and Tony and Pepper are asleep, so that left you."

"What? You didn't think I'd be asleep, too?"

"Well, no," he shrugged. "I just figured you'd be least likely to shoot me if I showed up at your door at two in the morning."

Natasha laughed. It was one of the realest, most genuine laughs she'd heard from herself in a long time. "_Me? _You thought _I _would be least likely to shoot you? Have you _met _me, Steve?"

Steve laughed then, too, setting his coffee down on the table.

"Shooting you can still be arranged," she teased.

"Mm, tempting, but I think I'll have to pass," he quipped back.

"So, tell me, why are you soaking wet?" she asked.

He got quiet then, looking away from her. His shoulders gave a tiny shrug, there was a slight shake of his head, like he was trying to keep it together.

"Steve," she whispered, gently placing her hand along his jaw, urging him to face her. "Talk to me. That's what you came here for, remember?"

He smiled the tiniest bit but it faded quickly.

"I just, uh, the nightmares were really bad tonight," he said softly, hollowly. "I went for a run to try and clear my head. Clearly that was a bad idea 'cause it started pouring. I just, um, I didn't know who else to go to so I came here."

It had been nearly a month since Steve had seen her in the midst of one of her own nightmares. Then, once she'd curled up next to him, lulled back to sleep by his even breathing and his warmth, she had slept perfectly. Not a dream to be seen.

Now, he sounded as broken as she had felt, like he was trying to hold all the pieces of himself together with just some glue and tape. She knew he had nightmares, but she didn't think they were _this _bad. She didn't think any of the ghosts he had haunting him could make him like this. He seemed smaller than usual, all curled in on himself, like he was trying to shield himself, much like he shielded other people. Shielded _her. _

Natasha moved closer to him. She found the zipper on his hoodie and pulled it down till it came free. She pushed the sopping garment off his shoulders and tossed it in the corner. She would dry it later. Steve gave her a strange look.

"Wearing that isn't going to help you get dry," she explained. "Or warm."

She scooted right next to him, pressing her body against his, taking his cold hands in between her own. His hands were so much larger than her own, and she enjoyed the way their hands fit together. Their fingers slid together, locking like puzzle pieces, like they were made for each other.

"What did you dream about?" she asked, repeating the question he'd asked her a month ago.

"Sometimes it's Bucky, sometimes it's Peggy," he replied softly. "Tonight it was the ice."

She sucked in a breath. Natasha knew that he'd been entombed in ice for 70 years. She couldn't imagine it. Worse yet, she couldn't imagine waking up from that and being told that he was in a different century, the whole world he knew ripped out from underneath his feet. Gone, just like that.

"Tell me," she urged.

He swallowed, licked his lips, squeezed her hand just the slightest. "It's cold," he started. "Always _so _cold. I wake up shivering. I'm in the air and the plane is falling and Peggy is talking to me…I know I'm going to die. I always know I'm going to die. And I can't change it or do anything differently. I'm just in the air and then I'm _not._"

His voice cracked and he drew away from her, making Natasha shiver at the sudden loss of body heat beside her. She watched as Steve stood, his bare back to her. She gave him a moment of space before standing with him. She walked around in front of him and tried to focus on his face, not on the muscles outlined against his skin that she so desperately wanted to run her fingers over.

"Look, Steve," she whispered, looking up at him, seeing the unshed tears sparkling in his eyes. "I don't know what you're going through. I didn't sleep for seven decades and wake up in a completely different world. I also can't say that I know more about loss than anyone else here, because we've all suffered through _immeasurable _losses."

She took a breath, keeping his gaze. She felt him reach out and run his fingers up and down her arm as she spoke, raising goose-bumps across her skin.

"I do know a little something about dying, though," she murmured. "I die a little every day."

Steve shook his head. "No," he disagreed. "You are one of the most alive people I have ever seen."

She scoffed, shaking her head like she had. He caught her chin in his hand, tilting her head back to look up at him.

"I mean it," he said firmly. "Like I said, we all have out ghosts. Even with the skeletons you have, it doesn't make you any more dead or alive than other people."

She sighed. "We're a really messed up pair, aren't we?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Do you want to stay?" she asked suddenly, thinking of how, in his arms after their movie night, after her nightmare, he had become her own personal dream-catcher. She'd slept soundly curled up next to him, and she wondered if it would happen again.

"I'd like to, yes." He nodded.

"All right, take off your clothes, then,"

"What?" Steve blushed, his eyes wide with surprise.

Natasha laughed. "Oh, calm down, Rogers. You can keep you underwear on. I just meant the rest of your clothes. Figured you would want it dry."

"Oh, um, yeah." He scratched the back of his neck before kicking off his shoes, and pulling his socks and pants off. He handed her his clothes and she tried not to laugh at how uncomfortable he looked just standing there in his boxers.

Natasha quickly threw his things in the dryer and then walked back into the living room where he was waiting. She tugged on his hand and led him to her bedroom. When she looked back, she smiled a little. She thought he had been awkward in the living room.

She found his awkwardness quite endearing. He was strong, fast, smart—the perfect soldier and the perfect man. The fact that he'd been forced to adapt and change some aspects of his thinking due to the time difference made her glad that he still remained a respectful gentleman. And if he was being a gentleman with _her, _when so many people before him hadn't been, it made her like him all that much more. Steve had always been himself around her, though, even if he _had _been distrusting of her for quite some time. Natasha found that being herself around Steve was just something that had _happened. _She didn't have to dig for her true self around him. She found that the real her came breaking through of its own accord. And he didn't judge her for that. He accepted her and that didn't happen very often.

"Natasha, I, um—" he stammered.

"It's okay, Steve," she soothed.

"I just don't want to give you the wrong idea," he mumbled.

Natasha laughed. "_You _giving _me _the wrong idea? Steve, _I'm _the one who brought you in here. You're fine. I want you to stay."

"You do?"

She nodded, not completely trusting herself to speak. She _did _want him to stay. She wanted him to stay so bad it hurt. He eased her mind, made sleeping bearable. She felt safe with him, and that was another thing that didn't happen very often.

Natasha shook her head, clearing her thoughts. "Besides," she smiled wryly. "You're clothes aren't dry yet. So, unless you want the elevator cameras to catch you going down to your floor from my floor, almost completely naked, then I suggest you stay here for the night."

"Good point," Steve agreed with a smile.

Natasha turned and crawled into her bed. He found his way next to her smoothly, like he'd spent countless nights crawling into her bed. She switched off her bedside lamp and then settled back against him. She didn't mind being the little spoon; his body was like a cocoon, keeping her warm, protected. He shielded her from her own consciousness. She enjoyed the way his breath tickled her neck, the way his arm wrapped around her waist. She was flush against his body, their naked legs touching. The hand around her waist slowly moved, traveling so he was brushing his fingers round in little patterns on her thigh.

She smiled, biting her bottom lip. "That tickles,"

She could practically hear Steve smile. "What about this?"

Natasha was about to ask what he meant when his hand traveled back up to her waist. He slowly hiked up the hem of her tank top, her fingers skimming the skin of her stomach and higher, nearly reaching her breasts. Her breath hitched in her throat and she involuntarily pressed farther against his body.

"What was that about giving me the wrong impression?" she said, her voice coming out a little huskier than usual. _Damn, _she thought. She didn't think anyone could get her that aroused that fast. Then again, Steve Rogers wasn't just _anyone. _

He chuckled and she felt his lips against the sensitive skin right behind her ear. She felt a shiver travel down her spine, but she wasn't cold.

"Sleep well, Natasha," he whispered.

Soon enough, the sound of his heart and the rhythm of his breaths, in and out, sang her to sleep like a lullaby.

Once again, wrapped in his embrace, Natasha went without a single nightmare the rest of the night.

_-:-_

_But hold me still, bury my heart on the coals_

_But hold me still, bury my heart next to yours_

_-:-_

**So there's chapter 2! Hope you guys liked it :)**

**Chapter 3 is almost done and I will update in a couple days :)**

**Please leave a review! It really means a lot to me and I really liked hearing your guys' thoughts on the last chapter.**

**Thank you for reading!**

**-DaughterOfPoseidon333**

**P.S. Any typos in this chapter are the last one, I apologize; I don't always catch them when I proofread.**


	3. Holland Road

**Hello everybody! So first off, thank you SO MUCH or all the feedback and support on this story, it means a lot to me!**

**Second, I don't know if I ever mentioned this, and you guys have probably figured this out by now, but just in case, this story is set after Winter Soldier. I have another post CATWS story, but the two don't really relate. **

**Third, the song lyrics. The first ones you see are from Mumford and Sons song **_**Holland Road**_**, hence the title of the chapter. Lyrics at the bottom are, once again, from **_**Ghosts That We Knew. **_

**I don't own the lyrics or Captain America. **

**Enjoy!**

**-:-**

**Ch. 3: Holland Road**

_-:-_

_But I'll still believe though there's cracks you'll see,_

_When I'm on my knees I'll still believe,_

_And when I've hit the ground, neither lost nor found,_

_If you'll believe in me I'll still believe_

_-:-_

Sleeping in the same bed became a habit for them. Natasha didn't mind, and Steve didn't seem to either. It was hard to tell who slept in whose bed more. Natasha found herself in Steve's room just as much as he found himself in hers. It started out with them only going to the other when they were woken up by a particularly bad nightmare. If Natasha screamed herself awake in the middle of the night, she would pull on a pair of sweats and make her way to Steve's floor.

She remembered one night where Sam had gotten to the door before Steve had and the Falcon had simply given her a big smirk. She'd rolled her eyes at him, shoving past him playfully and teased him about Maria. That shut him up pretty quickly and he'd slunk off to his room just as Steve had come out.

Sometime after that, they started sleeping together for the whole night. They would come down, hang out, drink a few beers, and then head off into the bedroom, often with Sam or Maria staring after them. Natasha knew their friends had started talking, assuming things, but Natasha didn't care.

Not even tonight—four months since they'd started their little ritual—when Tony brought it up while they were all eating dinner together on the communal floor. Steve had nearly choked on his pasta, but Natasha shrugged and brushed it off. Later that night Steve didn't show up at her floor. She thought about going down to his, wondering if he was waiting for her to. But then she decided to give him some space.

Which turned out to be a mistake when she woke up screaming. She'd thrashed around, trying to shake the images out of her head. There had been blood, so much blood. _That _part wasn't unusual for her nightmares. It was when she found the source of the blood that she freaked. Bodies of her friends lay around her, each and every one of them. Maria and Clint and Fury and Sam, Tony and Bruce and Thor. And there in front of them all, had been Steve. Blood coated his lips and his body and his hands, so much like when she'd found him on the shore of the Potomac after the fall of the Helicarriers and his fight with the Winter Soldier. Natasha heard him speak, but his lips weren't moving. _You did this, Natasha. You killed us all. _She'd backpedaled, trying to get away from his corpse, from his voice. But he kept talking, and no matter how far away she got, she could still hear his voice, still see his body. The rest of their voices joined in. _Killer, murderer. Liar. You're a killer, Natasha. Liar, killer. Natalia Alianovna Romanova. Killer, killer, KILLER! _

That was when she woke up. Cool hands closed around her shoulders now and her eyes snapped open. Her room was bathed in soft yellow light from her table lamp. She sat up to see Maria looking at her. The brunette's forehead was creased in concern. Once Natasha had settled, Maria sat back. The brunette had bags under her eyes, like she'd just woken up. Well, Natasha figured her screaming had woken her roommate up.

"I called Steve," Maria said. "He's on his way up now."

Natasha nodded. Part of her was relieved. She knew he would hold her in his arms, trace patterns on her skin, and hum tunes from the 40s till she fell asleep. Part of her was terrified to see him. All she could see right then was Steve, bleeding and broken, his body twisted in ways that weren't humanly possible. She could hear his voice in her head, calling her _murderer _and _killer _and _liar. _

"Look," Maria started, licking her lips. "I know we've all been teasing you guys, but…_I _know that there's nothing going on between you two. Well, not _really._"

Maria grinned at her and Natasha laughed. "There _isn't _anything going on between us. Steve is just a friend."

"Mm-hmm," Maria hummed disbelievingly.

"Oh, god," Natasha groaned. "Not you too. Seriously, Tony didn't shut up all throughout dinner. Well, at least until Pepper threatened to stab him with her fork. Even then all he did was stare. I do not need the teasing from you too."

"I'm not teasing!" Hill protested, but Natasha gave her a pointed look. "Okay, well, maybe a little, but that's because even if nothing is going on _right _now, it doesn't mean that there isn't something more between you two."

"There isn't," Natasha repeated.

"Do you want there to be?"

Natasha opened her mouth to answer before stopping short. _Did _she want there to be more between her and Steve? She wouldn't deny that they were a lot closer than they had been years ago, even months ago. She was pretty close with Maria and Pepper, and she had a good relationship with the rest of the Avengers. They were her teammates. Clint, of course, was her best friend, and Fury was like a father to her, but Steve…Steve was different. He'd always seemed to see right through her, see past the masks and the disguises and the fake identities and see _her. _He didn't see the fire or the blood of her past—he saw all that she was and all that she could be. He saw the _good _in her, even when most of the world thought of her only as bad.

"I don't know," she replied finally. "Maybe. I just…I don't want to ruin what we have now. He's really important to me."

"I know. He's a good friend." Maria said earnestly. "And he's been helping with the nightmares, hasn't he?"

Natasha nodded.

"You're not going to lose him, Natasha." Maria reasoned. "You're just as important to him. Believe me. I've seen the way he looks at you."

"Looks at me?" Natasha echoed in disbelief.

"Yeah, when you're not watching. He looks at you like…like you're the only person in the world, as cheesy as that sounds. He looks at you like you're the person who matters."

Natasha ducked her head, not wanting to meet Hill's eyes. "Not me," she mumbled. "I don't matter that much."

"To him you do," Maria argued. "Natasha, I know that you're…that you would like to get rid of your past, wipe it out. But just remember that your past is a part of you. Steve accepts that, trust me. I would bet you money that Steve cares about you just as much as you care about him."

Natasha paused, eyeing Hill. "What's the wager?"

Maria grinned. "How about dinner?"

"You're on," Natasha smiled.

Before she could say anything else, Steve knocked on the open door, his body half in the doorway. "Am I interrupting something?"

Maria shook her head and smiled kindly at Steve. "No, I was just leaving."

The brunette turned back Natasha and squeezed her hand, as if to say, _remember what I said. _Natasha nodded and smiled at her friend. Maria got up and left without another word, shutting the door behind her.

"I'm sorry, Natasha. I should've been here—" the soldier started to say.

"It's okay, Steve." She interrupted. "It's not your fault."

He sighed and came over to sit down next to her on the bed, his shoulder bumping against hers. His hair was damp like he'd just gotten out of the shower. He was barefoot and only wearing a pair of sweats and a t-shirt that he'd put on backwards. Clearly he'd come up in a hurry. Natasha warmed at the thought.

"You know," he started softly, placing a hand over hers, circling his thumb across the back of her hand. "These past four months that we've been doing…this….it's been helping me. With my nightmares."

"It's been helping me, too," she admitted.

"Just…tonight," he said, wringing his hands together. "What Tony was saying about us, I just…I don't know. I guess I started doubting…"

Natasha had to agree. The past several months she'd had her doubts too. They had too close a relationship to be considered _just _friends, though that's what they kept saying they were, even though they both knew it wasn't true. They weren't friends with benefits because despite sleeping together, they weren't _actually _sleeping together. And she couldn't call Steve her boyfriend because they weren't together. She thought about what Maria had said, and wondered if that _maybe I want it to be something more _was actually a _yes, I want it to be something more. _

Natasha sighed, watching as he continued to rub her hand with the pad of his thumb. His hands were quite a bit bigger than hers, the skin calloused against her own scarred and worn hands. His touch was gentle, though. It was always gentle.

"I know you have your doubts, but…you don't regret it, do you?" she asked quietly.

Steve turned and met her eyes with his own. The blue was a darker hue in the dim light of her room. "No, of course not," he replied, his forehead creasing a teeny bit. "Do you?"

She shook her head, giving his hand a squeeze. "No. I don't regret it."

He gave the smallest nod of his head, keeping her gaze. Looking at him, Natasha felt warm from head to toe, her stomach a mass of nervous butterflies. She'd never gotten butterflies around someone before, but that was because no one had made her feel the way Steve did.

Clint had saved her. He had picked her up off the ground and wiped the blood from her face. He brought her to SHIELD, to the place she considered home for a very long time. He gave her a new life, a better life. But Steve…Steve was _healing _her. Steve stitched her up. The new life she'd been given, Steve had given her a reason to start _living it _again. He looked at her scars and her past and accepted them for what they were—a part of her. He took all of the good and all of the bad together.

His touch ignited her and his words soothed her and she never wanted it to stop. He made her feel absolutely and beautifully _alive. _In the dark, when they were alone and the rest of the world was asleep, the words he whispered gave her hope. Hope that when she woke up, everything would be better than the day before. Hope that one day, when she looked at her ledger, the only red that would be there would be the red, white, and blue that he left in his wake.

She wanted to be better and with him, she knew she could. He brought out the very best in her, brought out her true self. He brought out _Natasha, _when so many people saw Natalia. Steve believed in her, and thus, she believed in herself. She felt so safe with him, so secure. She didn't have to look over her shoulder to know that he had her back. He was just always there. It was completely and utterly effortless being around him. She didn't have to pretend or fake a smile, she could be herself without a second thought.

As she looked at him now, Natasha knew she wanted to be with him in every way possible, wholly, completely. She wanted to kiss him, touch every inch of his bare skin, until they were one person trapped in two bodies. She wanted him to be so gentle with her that she felt like she would shake apart at the seams. She wanted him to claim her as his own, to be his and only his. She wanted him to whisper her name like a lullaby, sing it to her as they went up and over their peaks.

But she didn't tell him any of that. Instead, with a voice that sounded far more broken than it should have, she said only two words,

"Hold me?"

Steve stared at her for a moment, before letting go of a breath he'd been holding. He gave her a tiny smile and nodded. He hooked his arm around her waist and laid down with her. He flicked off her light and the room darkened. Natasha didn't even have to shift to get comfortable. Having slept curled up against each other for four months, it was the most natural thing in the world. She immediately felt better, calmer. She felt Steve's chin rest gently on top of her head as he pulled her closer to him.

"Steve?" she murmured, remembering something.

"Yeah?"

Natasha smiled, even though he couldn't see it. "You know your shirt's on backwards, right?"

There was a pause and then Steve laughed, his body shaking gently against hers. "Yeah, yeah I guess it is. Maria called while I was finishing up my shower so I came up as fast as I could."

"I noticed," she chuckled. "Why?"

''Why' what?"

"Why hurry to get up here?" she asked, curious. It's not like she didn't have Maria with her. She hadn't been in danger, and she'd had nightmares before. She'd also had plenty of nightmares before he'd come along. It wasn't anything new, so she wondered why he'd rushed to get to her.

"I was worried about you," he replied quietly. He was silent for a few minutes before continuing. "I care about you a lot, Natasha. I know that you weren't in trouble or anything, but I hate to see you hurting, even if it's not physical."

Natasha twisted around in his arms so her chest was against his. She put her hand over his heart and she could feel it beating, steady and strong, beneath her palm. She looked into his eyes, seeing, even in the dark, with her eyes having adjusted, she could see the open honestly in his.

"I just want you to know," Steve went on. "that no matter what, I'm always going to have your back. I won't let you get hurt."

Natasha smiled. "I can take care of myself, you know."

"Oh, I know," he chuckled. "Believe me. But, I'll be there for you anyway. I'm not going anywhere."

Natasha, not sure how to respond, just nodded. She was about to roll back over, put Steve gently placed a hand on her arm, stopping her. She looked up at him, waiting for an explanation.

"There's something else I want to try tonight," he murmured, his face just a couple inches from hers, so close that she could smell he mint from his toothpaste.

She stayed still, waiting, watching him. His hand moved down her arm, his fingers swirling patterns against her skin like he usually did. The touch of his fingers against her skin created sparks, filling her with fire. He had touched her a lot in the last four months. He always limited himself to her legs, arms, and stomach, never straying beyond those parts. She felt something different in him tonight, though. Something more charged, ready to set ablaze any minute.

Steve kept his eyes on her face, probably watching for her reaction. _Reaction to what? _She wondered until his started inching his face closer to hers. And Natasha knew, with no doubt in her mind, what was coming, but it still stole her breath away when his lips touched hers. Natasha instantly melted into him, her body molding against his as the hand that had been tracing on her arm pulled her flush against him. His mouth moved against hers almost expertly, lips soft and gentle, but demanding and firm at the same time. Her pulse quickened, her heart pounding in her chest. She ran her fingers through his hair, tugging on the short strands. He groaned against her mouth, and damn if she hadn't been turned on before, she sure as hell was now.

"Where'd you learn to kiss like that?" she asked breathlessly as Steve moved the focus of his mouth to her neck, where he dotted kisses up and down her skin.

She swore she saw him blush, but his answer was confident. "I went on a few dates with Sharon."

Natasha nearly pushed him away, but her nerves were on fire and the last thing she wanted was for him to stop touching her. She tried not to feel jealous, but the thought of Steve with anyone else made her feel the opposite of okay. "When was this?"

"Mm," he hummed against her skin. "A while ago. Not too long after the graveyard. I was looking for Bucky in D.C. and decided to ask her out, like _you _suggested."

Natasha laughed a little. "And?"

"And I realized she wasn't my type."

"Really?" Natasha breathed as Steve gently rolled her onto her back, his body hovering above her as he rucked up her tank-top and kissed her stomach. "So, uh, what _is _your type?"

"Red-headed Russian assassins," he answered and stopped long enough to give her that good ol' heroic, Captain America style smile.

"Come here," she whispered, pulling him back towards her so she could kiss him. "Guess I'll have to thank Sharon for making you such a great kisser. By the way, how many dates are we talking?"

Steve chuckled, pulling away from her lips, though his hand continued to trail up and down her arm. "Jealous, Tasha?"

"Maybe," she grumbled a little grudgingly.

"Don't worry," he said. "Not enough to get this far."

He leaned in to kiss her again, and after that, the only words spoken were each other's names. And just like she'd hoped for, Steve took his time. He was slow and methodical, making sure no inch of her flesh was untouched, un-kissed. He danced his fingers over every one of her scars, including the two given to her by the Winter Soldier. She touched him too, from tangling her hands in his hair, to running her hands over every stretch of taut muscle she could find. As she hit her climax, Steve ran his fingers across her back, drawing patterns like usual.

Later, as she lay spooned next to him, his bare skin against hers, did she remember her bet with Maria.

"Dammit," she murmured, already half asleep in his arms with his heartbeat lulling her to sleep.

"What?" Steve asked.

"Nothing," she smiled. "I just owe Maria dinner."

The last thing she heard before she fell asleep was Steve laugh.

_-:-_

_But the ghosts that we knew made us black and all blue_

_But we'll live a long life_

_And the ghosts that we knew will flicker from view_

_And we'll live a long life_

_-:-_

**And that is a wrap! I know it was a short story, but I hope you guys liked it :)**

**I will probably write more Romanogers stories in the future, because I have so many ideas and I just adore these two :) Just so you know though, it might be a little bit before I write another story. I have another one I'm trying to finish up, and I also leave for my first year of college in a week or so here, so I need to focus on starting school. Once I have something new up, though, I will definitely post an author's note to this story and let you guys know :)**

**Please review! All the support is wonderful so far and I would love to hear your final thoughts!**

**One last thank you for all the reviews and follows and favorites so far on this story; it really means the world to me and you guys are truly the best!**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-DaughterOfPoseidon333**

**P.S. Any typos, I apologize for. **


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